Rise of the Fallen
by Pheox
Summary: AU What would happen if, instead of being raised in the past, Jak was born and raised in Haven City? What about if he knew all about his heritage? How much would change and how much would stay the same? Mild swearing and violence


Disclaimer: I don't own Jak2 or any of the games related to it.

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Prologue: Fallen Royals

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They came without warning. No alarm was sounded as the assassin snuck into the royal bedchamber to murder the king and queen. No one noticed when the queen's throat was viciously and quietly slashed beneath the gently billowing curtains of an open window. No one came as the assassin left the room in search of the king, absent from his now-dead wife's side.

Dressed in black and carrying a single, elegantly carved dagger, he had snuck in, passing the guards as though he were a thief sneaking an item away from an unsuspecting victim. He snuck out the same way, slipping away from the guard as he walked swiftly and silently to the young prince's bedchambers.

A light was on, proving to be a momentary drawback. He heard murmured voices as the king comforted his restless son. Two birds with one stone. He peered through the crack between the open door and the wall and saw that the king was sitting on the bed holding his nine-year-old son. The light – the assassin's main priority – was a small bed lamp by their side. Tricky, but then he always loved a challenge. As soon as the light was out, they would be sitting ducks, helpless to him and his blade. That would be his first mistake.

The assassin drew a small blaster, equipped with a heavy silencer. With aim borne from years of experience and practice, the assassin aimed through the slight crack and struck the cord of the lamp, effectively tearing through the light's source of energy. He expected the king to be confused with the sudden darkness of the windowless room. He expected the king to fall by his blade and the prince to be scared and easy to kidnap as per his orders.

He had not been informed that the king was a fighter first; a monarch second.

The king stood, taking his child and shielding him behind his back as he drew his own small dagger - a weapon that never left his side. He waited quietly as he kept a hand secure on his son's shoulder.

The assassin crept into the room and, to his surprise, slammed against the wall, a blade pressed harshly against the beating pulse of his throat. His blaster fell from his hand when he had connected harshly against the wall.

Sharp, angry violet eyes glared into calm, dark ones.

"Who sent you?" King Damas demanded his voice low and threatening.

The assassin had made a vow, in blood, to never reveal his client's name. He smirked; the king could just worry about that question for a little while longer.

Damas drew him back and slammed him again into the wall. "What's your goal?"

"I'm merely a pawn," the assassin replied. "Assigned to take out the head so that the body may fall." He didn't move as the knife pieced skin and was held from cutting deeper.

"Who sent you?" The king demanded once again.

"Ask him yourself." The assassin sneered. "He should be here soon to finish the job." He struck his knife into the belly of the king as the king drew his own blade across his throat.

The assassin fell, dead at the Damas' feet as the king clutched at the knife wound. Snarling, he grabbed his son's hand before rushing down the hall to get his wife before they would leave through the secret door located in the royal chambers. He heard the warning alarm as he reached his room. He nodded to the guards to go check it out while he entered the room.

The smell of death was always distinct and always unwelcome. The scent reached his nose and Damas knew that he was too late. He pressed his son to his side, moving so that he was a barrier between his child and his deceased wife.

Closing his eyes in pain he spun away from the blood, taking solace in knowing that his wife had been asleep when Death had taken her from them.

Taking a calming breath and, knowing that the rebels were already in the castle, went back to his bedside, pulling his katana from beneath the mattress. The silver blade had served him and his family well in the past and would, no doubt serve him and his family in the future.

He stabbed his dagger into his bed pillow, knowing that any one of the higher ranking guards would recognize it as a sign that he had escaped safely. He took his son and pushed one of the stone panels in the wall. He felt the familiar pinprick as the precursian device read his blood and determined his origin as that of a descendent of Mar, the founder of Haven City, his home.

A door slid seamlessly open and without hesitation, drew his son down the winding staircase and to safety.

xXx

The city had been completely taken over on the third day. Praxis, the Queen's brother, had usurped the thrown, killing off or hunting down high ranking guards and soldiers and replacing them with his own.

He still hadn't found Damas or his son and there were still a few soldiers fighting and fleeing. Praxis figured that, given a week, he would have what he wanted: complete control over Haven City.

Praxis sat atop the throne and allowed for a gleeful smile to spread across scarred and partially mechanical face. Despite the fact that the missing king and prince could prove a problem to his long-term plans he was quite pleased with how smoothly the take-over had gone. He knew his hold over the soldiers and citizens would be tenuous at best but that would be remedied in time. The first to challenge him would be made a public example of.

Nodding to himself he turned his thoughts over to his plan. Though his assassin had failed at killing both his sister and brother-in-law and kidnapping his nephew, he thought it was going rather well.

The original plan was to kill both the king and queen then using the prince as a shield. He would have acted as a guardian to the poor, tragically orphaned boy and directed his nephew to do what _he_ wanted and eventually killing him with a slow-acting poison, making it appear as though the boy had died from a severe illness. He would have acted remorseful and reluctantly move into the position of Baron of the city.

Regretfully, things didn't work out according to plan. That made it fortunate that he so happened to have a backup.

Taking the palace by force wasn't on his agenda but it got the same results.

Now if only his blasted brother-in-law would show, things would go smoothly.

Growling, Praxis stood, stalking to the side of the room where a bottle of liqueur had been placed. He poured some into a shot glass and downed the bitter beverage in on gulp, reveling in the burn as it went down his throat.

Errol, his second-in-command, walked in. His orange hair was spiked and he carried his yellow and blue uniform helmet beneath his arm. His stride was cocky and confident and his temperament short and cruel by nature. He bowed his head to Praxis and stood at ready by the Baron's side.

Praxis placed the cup on the table and turned to Errol. "Report."

"Damas and Prince Mar have been found."

The smile that made its way sadistically from ear- to ear would have made a lesser man tremble. "Excellent."

xXx

Despite his still healing wound, Damas was putting up a fight. No matter which tactics the corrupted guards used, it was always countered. And, slowly but surely, their numbers were falling.

They didn't expect such a struggle from the nearly defeated king and they didn't expect the kid to put up much of a fight.

How wrong they were.

Damas sprinted along the edge of the rock wall in the Haven forest, dodging streams of concentrated eco. Abruptly, he switched directions, running towards them, ducking beneath blaster and sliding between two surprised guards. Sword, swinging he slashed at one as he passed, his sharp blade tearing through flesh and neatly slicing one of them in half.

Popping to his feet he zigged and zagged, throwing off their aim as he ran to a large tree and spinning behind it. Mar joined him moments later, tossing him one of the two fully loaded blasters that he had confiscated from a few of the guards that he had killed.

He turned his sweat-soaked face towards his father and grinned.

Damas felt his own lips twitching into a similar smile. He worried about the blood soaking his son's shirt where a stray blast had nipped him. Still, he pushed it away, knowing that they both needed to fight if they were to survive. Simultaneously they rolled to the side, firing at the guards as they each appeared from either side of the tree.

Damas kept his blade in his hand as he rolled to his feet and kept firing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mar somersault into bushes. Every time his son fired, a guard was hit or fell. Despite the critical situation he felt pride fill him as Mar's accuracy proved to be better than his own.

Both he and Mar had trained together since the boy was five. He taught this son how to wield a gun competently and manipulate a sword in the family's unique style. The blade wasn't Mar's strong point but the gun he had excelled at.

Pushing the memories to the back of his mind, Damas continued his assault, hoping and trusting that his son's abilities would hold up.

xXx

When Praxis arrived, the duo had lead the guards deeper into the forest. He took no note of the many bodies littering the ground as he made his way over to the officer commanding the assault.

Seeing the Baron, the Captain stood and saluted Praxis as he came into view.

"Report," Praxis ordered as he had with Errol.

"We got them on the run, Sir. They're heading deeper into the forest. They won't last much longer."

"You fool!" Praxis roared. "There's an entire store of eco in the middle of the forest!"

The Captain took a step back at the force of Praxis' anger. "Begging you pardon Sir, but that eco's raw. They could hardly use it."

"I didn't ask for your opinion Captain. Those royals are Channellers. They can use any type of eco." Somehow, the cold, icy anger cut through the Captain more effectively than the fiery blast had moments before. Praxis raised his voice, taking command over the soldiers. "I want Damas and Mar captured alive at any cost. A month's supply of eco goes to the soldier that can bring them to me."

A chorus of "Yes Sir!" surrounded him before the soldiers began working harder and faster to drive the king and the prince from their hiding.

xXx

A pungent curse spilled from Damas' lips as he heard Praxis' voice. He should have known that the bastard was behind all of this. He never trusted his wife's brother; had always found him growing increasingly impatient and hungry for power. It seemed his instincts had been right all along.

Mar turned his head to his father before peeking out from behind the tree once more. He too had heard his uncle's voice and dreaded what would come should they be captured. Clicking in a fresh cartridge of ammo, he returned to shooting at the guards coming for them. If they could just make it to the supply of eco…

He dove from his shelter and sprinted to the thick patch of bushes surrounding a tall tree. Quick and nimble he climbed the rough trunk and swung himself onto a thick branch, hidden by leaves. He took aim at the guards once more, firing shots as he waited for his uncle to come into view.

xXx

Praxis watched from his own covering of leaves as his nephew scurried up a tree and started firing at his guards. He was impressed by the boy's guts and accuracy. He didn't figure the boy had it in him.

Praxis shouldered his own sniper rifle and took aim at where Mar was hidden.

xXx

Damas' hearted stopped when he heard the soft cry that came from his son's underdeveloped vocal cords. He turned in time to see Mar fall from the tree he was in and saw three guards rush up to him.

Unable to move, he watched as Mar shot one of them before being grabbed from behind by another. He fought fiercely against him and managed to ram his heel into the poor haps' groin forcing the guard to let go of him. However, he couldn't dodge the kick that the final guard aimed at him and crashed harshly into the ground, his battered body bouncing before coming to a motionless halt.

Tired and injured, Mar tired to rise. The guard kicked him, rolling him onto his back. Panting, he glared at the traitor that he had heeled.

Seeing retribution for his bruised groin, the guard held his gun so that it was aimed at Mar's head and stepped on the hole in his shoulder caused by Praxis's gun. He felt satisfaction when the young boy whimpered at the pain and dug his toe mercilessly into the shoulder, grinning when he cried out in pain.

Praxis walked up to his nephew, smiling down at him as he waved the guard off. He lifted the boy up by his hair and forced him to his knees. He placed his gun beneath Mar's chin forcing his head up before addressing the hidden king.

"You know, dear brother, from where I'm standing you have two choices: give up or fight and let your son's life hang on your conscience. Choose now."

He wasn't disappointed when Damas stepped out from the foliage and dropped his gun, holding up his empty hands. He hoped that the blade would go unnoticed and remain where it was hidden until he or Mar could come to reclaim it.

Two guards walked to him and grabbed his shoulders and arms harshly before one rammed the butt of his gun against his head. Before blessed darkness claimed him he heard Praxis muttered one word:

"Excellent"


End file.
